![]() |
Murder at a fancy party. |
| When he leaves the room, the lights flicker, secretly, and rain drizzles outside. No one cares. The party is beginning and the hosts, lovely they are, serve up some fruity concoctions to the partygoers. Outside, rays of the moon shine on a dancing couple. The trees watch. The man is reaching out for a glass. He wanders from conversation to conversation, imputting his share of gossip. His body moves quietly--slowly, steadily as a cat creeping upon its prey. Eventually, in April, the corpse will be unmasked, it will present itself and no one knows yet; the women, after the arrest will talk, saying I knew he was odd, I could sense it, but that's a lie. Only the house knew he was plotting among them, an unknown star, and shadowing him horror, drama, romance, a runaway soap opera. |